Cohabitation
by DoktorApplejuce
Summary: Stoick agrees to take Astrid in after her parents are killed in a dragon raid. Hiccup, now living under the same roof as his long-time crush, is forced to confront his feelings much sooner than he ever expected. (Starts before the first movie)
1. Under The Same Roof

**AN**

 **As you've likely already read in the description, this story is set before the events of the first movie. At least in part. There'll be a few timeskips throughout, and the overall story will take place over the course of about seven years.**

 **Feedback is** **always** **appreciated.** **Constructive criticism is especially appreciated. Praise is awesome, and I love to hear it too, don't get me wrong, but criticism is easier to learn from.**

 **I'd like to also give a huge thanks to** **LaylaDeMich for beta-ing this story. She's been a tremendous help, and you should all go check out her page.**

 **And, without further ado, on with the story:**

-0-0-0-0-

Chapter 1 - Under The Same Roof

Hiccup was five years old when he first developed a crush on Astrid Hofferson.

At that age, he and the rest of the children of Berk would happily play together. The fact that Hiccup was slightly smaller and weaker than the rest of them was a non-issue. They only ever saw him as the chief's son. The difference in stature between himself and the other children was so slight, none of them ever took any real notice.

And while he considered all of his peers to be his friends, there was no-one he was closer with than Astrid. They were inseparable. It was a common routine for the two of them to wander the village, holding hands. He would often, loudly and proudly, announce to anyone who'd listen that he planned to one day marry her. The people of Berk found it adorable, and would often coo at the pair, delighting at their behaviour.

Of course, like all good things in his life, it eventually came to a swift end. They grew older. And as they did, the other children grew taller and stronger. Hiccup didn't.

Astrid began dedicating more and more of her time learning the basics of combat, while Hiccup spent most of his time avoiding ever frequent bouts of bullying from his cousin and the twins. The differences between himself and rest of the children his age became more pronounced, and even the normally passive Fishlegs, cowed by the others, left his side.

When Hiccup turned seven, he was sent to Gobber to work as his apprentice as a blacksmith. By that point, he and Astrid no longer held hands. They no longer spent time together. They no longer spoke. He'd long since given up on publicly sharing his feelings on the girl, least of all to Astrid herself.

As their friendship dissolved, so to did his infatuation with the temperamental blonde. At least, he thought it had.

He was eleven when he realized it hadn't abated in the slightest. It had merely morphed into something far less innocent and childlike. He would often catch himself staring at her from across the mead hall during meal times, or across the village plaza whenever she passed by the forge as he worked. Watching her steady confident movements, her athletic grace, and the natural beauty that enraptured him.

Of course, she never noticed. She never paid attention to anything he did. It was better, he supposed, than what someone like Snotlout would do. Much better. He wasn't sure what he'd do if Astrid began to look down on him the same way everyone else did.

Indifference was far more preferable.

He was twelve when his father announced she'd be moving in to live with them. The idea of sharing a house with the subject of his many recent fantasies sent his stomach spiraling into its own impromptu acrobatics routine. His heart fluttered like the wings of a gronkle, and for a few minutes, he was certain he had forgotten how to breathe. He was shocked. He was unnerved. He was completely and utterly elated.

At least, he was, until he learned the exact reason why. The queasiness returned with a vengeance. This time, it was accompanied by none of the positive emotions that had previously been attached.

There had been a particularly devastating dragon raid on Berk the night before. One that took a particularly heavy toll on the Hofferson household. Hiccup's father, whose face was almost always sculpted into a deep scowl, looked crestfallen as he told the story.

No one knew exactly how it managed to fit inside the house, but a particularly adventurous zippleback had been able to slither its way through the front door of the Hofferson home.

Astrid, who hadn't been old enough yet to be allowed to participate in the defense of the island, had been inside at the time. Her parents, who had been nearby, immediately dropped what they were doing to engage the two-headed dragon and protect their daughter. Nobody knew exactly what transpired inside the house that night, but the end result was certain.

One moment, the young girl was leaping out one of the upper story windows, and the next, the house had detonated in a savage inferno. Astrid managed to survive the explosion with little more than a sprained ankle from the fall and a few minor burns.

Her parents hadn't.

With no immediate family to take her in, Stoick had volunteered. He had explained to the tribe how he sympathized with the young girl, having lost his wife in a dragon raid. No one could find it in them to argue. And, though it remained unsaid, the fact of the young girl's burgeoning martial prowess was an important contributing factor in the minds of many. It was hoped that she might rub off on the chief's small and awkward son.

-0-0-0-0-

Hiccup stared in shock as his father hauled a small cot up the stairs and set it down on the opposite end from the young boy's bed in the upstairs loft.

Being a standard viking house, the building featured a rather open floor plan. The lack of interior walls made them much easier to rebuild in the inevitable event that they burnt down. The entire downstairs was one large room, which held the home's hearth, a table for dining, and Stoick's own bed, while the upstairs had been bestowed to his son.

Answering Hiccup's unasked question, the chief briefly explained that he felt it inappropriate to force the girl to share a space with himself. Moreso, at least, than the two children sharing the loft.

"Gives the lass more space too," the towering redhead grunted with a shrug.

Hiccup watched Astrid as she seated herself atop the cot, her movements slow and laboured, far beyond the simple limitations of her injured leg. She stared ahead, unblinking at the wall across from her as Stoick spoke, promising that a larger, more permanent bed would be brought up as soon as it could be assembled by the village carpenter. She ignored him, electing to remain quiet has he revealed that new clothes would be brought over as well, and that she needn't worry on that front.

Stoick succinctly finished his spiel, before retreating back down the stairs, his footfalls as heavy as the silence that permeated the loft. Hiccup watched sadly, as the girl whose fiery attitude he'd fallen for in the first place, sat unmoving and subdued.

He'd had dreams of one day sharing a house with the blonde. Even after their childhood friendship had deteriorated, and his proclamations to the village about his future plans were now a thing of the past, he still often fantasized about one day asking her to marry him. In his dreams, she would say yes. It would never happen, he knew it, but it was delusion he happily held close to his heart.

Seeing her as she was now, he knew that none of what she'd gone through had been worth the result of sharing a roof with her. He would happily give all of that up just to have her old self back.

-0-0-0-0-

A month passed. Astrid remained as closed off as before, hardly speaking to anyone; least of all, Hiccup. As promised, a new bed and wardrobe had been brought in for her. The village carpenter had even gone out of his way to carve out the distinct shape of a deadly nadder sigil into the wood of the bed's headrest; the iconic symbol of the Hofferson family. But Astrid didn't seem to care.

There was another dragon raid, and as with most of the kids her age, barring Hiccup who was tasked with aiding Gobber in the forge, she'd been put on fire-watch duty for the very first time. The village was low on extra hands, especially after the previous raid, leading to the necessity of their promotion. In the chaos of battle, they were charged with hauling around buckets full of water and extinguishing any fires that cropped up.

At first, things had gone well. The warriors of the village were holding out against the attacking dragons, while the youths were quick to respond to any burning houses.

That, however, was quick to change.

A fire had sprung up amidst the buildings across from the forge, and Hiccup was able to watch as Snotlout arrived first, swiftly tossing his bucket over the flames, followed closely by the twins and Fishlegs. Snotlout took the opportunity to boast about how fast he'd been. With an exaggerated flex of his biceps, he loudly preened to the rest of the group, as Astrid, who had been keeping to the rear of their formation the the entire night, stepped forward.

She gripped her bucket and took careful aim at the center of the blaze. Just as she tensed to throw, a pair of snake-like necks slithered their way out of the smoke, their heads hissing menacingly.

Astrid froze.

One of the zippleback's heads moved in closer, sniffing at the girl, and Hiccup barely registered shouting her name in fear. The head rose at the commotion, just in time to spot Gobber, vaulting himself through the front window of the smithy and charging forward with his hammer-hand raised high over his head.

The two-headed dragon let out a squawk before taking flight, leaving the vikings behind.

"What the Helheim was that?!" Hiccup heard Snotlout's voice shout, as the stout preteen turned to face Astrid.

Hiccup was not someone who angered easily, preferring to deal with his problems through deflection and avoidance. However, in that moment, he felt his temper flare.

Thankfully, Gobber stepped in, "Leave 'er," he growled, pushing the dark haired boy back, not ungently, with his prosthetic.

Astrid stayed silent, her jaw clenched, her fists balled up tightly. For a moment, it looked as if she was ready to sock Snotlout right in the face. Silently, Hiccup cheered at the thought, still feeling indignant at his cousin's behaviour towards her.

Instead, she merely spun on her heels and stalked off, her bucket clattering forgotten in the dirt. As she passed by the forge, Hiccup meekly reached out a hand, wanting desperately to say something, anything to soothe her. But as he opened his mouth to do so, his words got caught in his throat. What could he possibly say that would help? And would she really want to hear it from _him_?

It was another couple of hours later, when Gobber finally dismissed him. The raid ended not long after the incident with the zippleback, and the remainder of the time under the thumb of the blacksmith had been spent helping him to craft nails heeded to repair the, thankfully minimal this time, damage caused by their reptilian invaders.

As chief, Stoick would likely be out far past midnight, ensuring that everything was in order before even thinking about sleep, if he came home that night at all. As such, Hiccup wasn't surprised to find the place laying in darkened silence.

Fumbling blindly for the steps that led to his loft, he climbed them, only to pause at the sight that met him at the top.

Astrid was sitting on the floor beside her bed, with her back pressed against the wall. Her arms wrapped around her knees, which had been pulled up to her chest. On the floor, her distinctive shoulder guards and spiked skirt had been discarded, leaving her in her striped tunic and leggings. Without them, her frame appeared much smaller to Hiccup than he expected.

Most surprisingly of all, were the tears marring her rosen cheeks. He'd never seen her cry before. No one had. He'd overheard a rumour once from one of the villagers that she hadn't shed a single tear, even as an infant. To see her in such a state wrenched his heart painfully.

The unexpected sight was enough of a distraction to throw off what little coordination he possessed. His foot caught on the last step and the floor rushed up to meet him. Harshly. Despite his best efforts, as groan of pain escaped him when his face made contact with hardwood.

Keenly aware that he was hardly alone, he immediately leapt to his feet, a hand reaching up to hold his now throbbing jaw, which had taken the brunt of the blow. Kneading the lower half of his face in attempt to alleviate the soreness, he cast his gaze hastily back towards Astrid.

Catching the tail end of her rubbing her eyes with her sleeves, she leveled a scowl at him, as if daring him to mention her tears. Hiccup gulped, finding himself subject to a glare that could melt any metal in Gobber's forge.

He had always thought her sapphire eyes were beautiful. But now, ablaze with potent emotion after a month of being devoid of any, he felt he was witnessing Valhalla itself, regardless of how much danger he may be in.

"Uh… h-hi…" He stammered out, struggling to wrangle down the blush scalding his face.

"What do you want?" Astrid muttered icily through clenched teeth.

"Er..." He replied dumbly, trying to judge whether or not it was worth attempting to run away before she decided his tumble hadn't been enough bodily harm for him that night. "...I was going to head to bed."

Astrid's intense gaze held his own for a few moments, all the while, Hiccup forgot how to breathe. Until, like the fires of the forge being doused at the end of the day, the emotion on her face dissipated. Tearing her eyes away from the Berkian heir, they dropped to the ground. Her shoulders, which had been squared confrontationally, wilted as she folded in on herself, both literally and figuratively.

Letting out a sad sigh, Hiccup accepted the dismissal for what it was and strode over to his half of the room. From the heavy wooden chest at the foot of his bed he extracted his sleepwear; a loose fitting tunic and set of leggings, before ducking down the stairs to change.

Returning to find her in the exact same position he'd left her, he ran a hand through his auburn hair, nearly tearing bits of it out by the roots as he wrestled with the idea that popped into his head. He couldn't leave her like this. It seemed so utterly wrong. This wasn't the Astrid Hofferson he knew, and he wanted her back. Even, he decided, if it resulted in being subjected to a severe beating.

"Astrid?" he asked, timidly tiptoeing towards the blonde, allowing his hands to fall to his sides, "Are you okay?"

Internally, he cringed. _Why would you ask that, you moron? You can clearly see she isn't_ , he internally berated himself for the clumsy attempt at a conversation starter. In his defense, he hadn't exactly had a whole lot of experience talking to people.

Astrid barely reacted, growling out something that sounded vaguely along the lines of, "Just peachy," without bothering to look up.

Ever cautious, Hiccup took a seat at the end of her bed; far enough away to give her some space, but close enough to not feel the need to shout across the room.

"You know…" he began, sinking into the corner of the mattress, "I lost my mother in a dragon raid."

He observed carefully as Astrid's head as it slowly rose, her face an unreadable slate. He offered a tepid smile, hoping to coax a reaction he could gauge. She offered nothing.

"It happened when I was a baby, so I don't really remember it," he pressed onward, trying not to allow her apparent apathy to get to him, "Dad doesn't like to talk about it either. But sometimes, I get these nightmares, where I watch it happen. I don't remember what she looks like, so it's always just a silhouette, surrounded by fire. But I can always hear her voice, yelling my name."

A pregnant lull hung in the air after he finished, filling the room with an uneasy tension. Hiccup began to idly tracing a finger over the furs beneath him in agitation. Silently, he sent a prayer to the gods in Asgard for Astrid to say something in response. For her to say anything at all.

The seconds stretched out into minutes. Tapping a heel against the floor, Hiccup realized he'd get nothing from her that night, and prepared to stand.

"My uncle Finn," Astrid's voice croaked, barely a whisper.

Yet the words may as well have been shouted, the way it shattered the silence. Hiccup felt himself reflexively jump at the seemingly thunderous sound. He pulled his hands into his lap, as if the bed itself had burned him.

"He would take me to the training arena every weekend," She continued. If she'd seen him startle, she made no mention of it. "He showed me the proper form for holding an axe. He taught me how to swing and how to throw, he made sure I knew how to block an attack, and what to do if I was ever disarmed..."

A rustling of clothes was heard. And then, to Hiccup's shock, the mattress shifted, accommodating the weight of a second person. Peering up from his lap, he saw Astrid perched directly beside him, her left shoulder a mere hand-span from his right.

"He was the best fighter in the village," She murmured, the faintest of smiles gracing her lips. Hiccup could feel his heart rate suddenly quicken, " _Fearless_ Finn Hofferson, they used to call him."

Her smile slid away, morphing into a frown.

"Used to?" Hiccup asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

"There was a flightmare that attacked the village a few years ago," she explained haltingly, her frown deepening.

Hiccup nodded. He vaguely remembered the event. Back when he had been five years old, the sky had been ablaze with colour, as if the gods of Asgard had spilled paint down onto the ceiling of Midgard itself. He'd wanted desperately to go and see the lights from as close as possible, so he'd ran to Raven Point before his father could stop him.

From the island's highest peak, he'd watched the lights, which he now knew were named Arvin Dale's Fire. At least, until he'd spotted something glowing a brilliant shade of iridescent blue streaking through the village below. He'd learned later that it had been a dragon attacking Berk. Soon after that, Astrid began to withdraw, spending more and more of her time training. He'd simply never connected the two.

"My Uncle Finn, h-he charged in to kill it," Astrid sputtered through a hiccough. "But when that beast turned his way, he froze."

A gasp involuntarily escaped Hiccup's lips as he watched tears once more trail down her cheeks.

"He died," She huffed, her face scrunching up, as if the very words she spoke caused her pain. In a manner of speaking, Hiccup supposed they did. "The flightmare killed him. I was there; I watched it happen."

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His hand twitched, as if attempting to reach towards her, but he quickly clamped down on the impulse.

A guttural sound ripped its way from Astrid's throat. A howl of pain. A scream in anger. It sounded almost inhuman in the sheerness of its magnitude, in the rawness of the emotion it conveyed. When she wheeled around to face him, Hiccup found himself fearing for his life.

" _Frozen_ Finn Hofferson!" Astrid snapped, a finger jabbed harshly into the auburn haired viking's chest. "That's what they call him now! I promised myself then and there that I would become the best fighter this village has ever seen. I'd become better than even he was. And then, I'd kill the flightmare myself."

The finger pulled away, and Hiccup seized the opportunity to rub the now painfully tender spot between his ribs. There would be a bruise there tomorrow for sure.

"But that's not gonna happen now, is it?" Astrid laughed mirthlessly. " _Frozen_ Astrid Hofferson. That's what I'll be remembered as."

With a sudden _**WHUMPH**_ , something hard impacted Hiccup's chest, driving the air from his lungs. As he gasped for breath, desperately attempting to refill his freshly depleted lungs, he failed to notice the weight that had settled against him.

Feeling something wet pressed against his chest, he brought a hand up to identify what could be causing the sensation. His confusion was only compounded when his palm, instead of feeling his own tunic as he expected, landed on something else; something soft and warm. Peering downwards, he was stunned to find his hand resting atop a head of champagne coloured hair that seemed to be… shivering?

"Astrid?" He gasped.

"I couldn't save them," the girl pressed against him whispered, her voice hitching, as if the words she spoke were resisting her, "They were right there, and I couldn't do anything."

Hiccup was at a loss for words. He racked his brain, rummaging its contents for something; anything to say. Nothing came forth. Until, like a torch being lit in the night, he knew that there was nothing he _could_ say. But there was something he could do. And it terrified him to the core.

Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around her, hoping his actions would be able to speak for him. As his hand came to rest on her shoulder, she stiffened. Hiccup dared not breath. A small, irrational corner of his conscience telling him that if he did, she'd shrug him off. That she'd push him away and tell him to leave her alone. It wouldn't be the end of the world; he was used to being shoved aside, used to being ignored.

But somehow, he knew that if that happened, he'd take it as a failure on his part. He knew he had a chance, here and now, to pull her out of her shell; to make a crack in the walls she erected over the past month. He had a chance to bring back the Astrid he knew. And if he couldn't do so now, he may never get the chance again.

As she held still against him, the fear that she would pull away mounted. Swallowing fiercely at lump forming in his throat, the certainty that she would grow stronger.

Perhaps she'd hit him for touching her? She wasn't afraid to dole out vicious punishment to Snotlout whenever he tried to put his hands anywhere near her. Surely he was no exception to the rule. At least if she did, a bit of the fire he'd always seen inside her would have a chance to come out. It would be worth it.

His internal deliberations were brought to a swift end when, much to Hiccup's surprise, she slowly relaxed and leaned into the embrace.

"Do you know what the worst part of it is?" Astrid murmured, her voice slightly muffled into his tunic. "That morning, my mom gave me the Hofferson family axe. She said I was ready; that when I carried it, I carried all of us."

The hands Hiccup quickly realized were grasping his shirt tightened their grip. He could almost hear the fabric groaning in protest from the near inhuman force the tiny blonde could exude. A sarcastic quip about the need to start wearing battle armour flew to the tip of the tongue before he reigned it in. His discomfort could be put on hold. Hers was more important.

He doubled his efforts with his own grasp, silently reassuring her, he hoped, that he was there. A wracking cough shook her frame as she choked on the tears now freely pouring forth.

"I failed," she rasped out between desperate gulps of air, "I didn't save them! They told me to run! The axe was right there, in front of me; I should have stayed and fight, but I didn't!"

The tears came in force, and blonde began to dry-heave. Her entire body bucked violently from the exertion as months worth of repressed emotions were unleashed. Like a caged and starved animal finally set free, they were merciless.

A powerful spasm shook Astrid, knocking her forward. Hiccup, clinging on fiercely, fearful of the consequences of letting go, was shoved backwards. Finding himself sprawled on his back, with Astrid huddled on top of him, he did the only thing he could do; hold on and listen.

She screamed, the sound unintelligible. When she finished, she screamed again; a guttural howl that tore at her throat. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and raw. And Hiccup listened, praying to the gods that it would be over. That the pain she was feeling would abate.

One last bellow issued forth, a primal shout that nearly shook the room. As her voice cracked and faltered, she collapsed on top of him, and the room was still. The only signs that she even lived were the soft oscillations of her sides as she inhaled and exhaled.

"Everything's gone," She whispered, her words tickling Hiccup's ear as they gently fell from her lips. "Mom. Dad. Uncle Finn. My house. My axe. I have nothing."

"You have me," Hiccup whispered back, meaning every word.

Hands slithered underneath his back, holding him securely in place. Even as sleep overtook the pair, her hold refused to abate. Inwardly, Hiccup hoped she'd never let go.

-0-0-0-0-

When he awoke the next morning, Hiccup was disappointed to find himself alone. For a moment, he toyed with the idea that the previous night had been a dream. Of course, the fact that he was in Astrid's bed, rather than his own, brought a swift end to that hypothesis.

Shrugging off the peculiarities of his solitude, Hiccup quickly prepared for the day. He had work in the forge, and Gobber would have his hide if he was late. At least, that's what the moody viking constantly threatened; that he'd make a leather apron from the boy's flayed skin and gift it to his next apprentice.

 _Charming_.

As he scampered towards the forge, he quickly picked up the sound of the burly blacksmith conversing with someone.

"That's not enough for what yeh want. At best, I could sell yah a small dagger for tha' much," Gobber stated. Hiccup was quick to pick up on his apologetic tone. At least, as apologetic as Gobber ever got.

"It's all I have," a second voice murmured; a voice Hiccup was very familiar with. One still rough and as ragged from the night before. Astrid's.

Deciding to make his presence known, hoping to avoid appearing as if eavesdropping, Hiccup strode through the doorway with more confidence than he felt. Eyeing the girl he'd spent the night curled up against as she came into view, he spotted the pair of dull copper coins held loosely in her outstretched hand.

"Sorry, lass," Gobber told her pointedly, "I don' set tha prices. If yeh really need an axe, yer welcome ta use one o' tha communal ones from tha arena armoury."

Astrid clenched her fist, letting out a sad exhale as her grip on the coins turned her knuckles white. Turning rigidly on her heels, the girl stomped her way towards the exit, not really seeing anything along the way. At least, not until she smacked head-first into him.

"Astrid?" Hiccup gasped, unconsciously taking hold of her shoulders as the impact pushed him back a step.

"Sorry," she mumbled, leaning in to the touch.

Only for her eyes to suddenly snap wide and meet his, as she leapt backwards, out of his reach. Nearly as fast as he could keep track, she bolted from the smithy, pausing halfway across the plaza to cast a furtive glance back over her shoulder. Seeing him still watching, she sped away, quickly disappearing into the village.

"If yer done ogling, we've got work to do," Gobber reminded the boy, waving his prosthetic in front of his face.

"Is she alright?" Hiccup asked, rooted to the spot.

"I doubt anyone'd be 'alright' after what happened to her," The blacksmith replied, pulling a leather apron from a nearby peg on the wall and tossing it over his apprentice's head. "Give 'er time. Space too. She'll work things out on her own."

Absentmindedly slipping the apron on over his head, Hiccup pondered the blacksmith's words. He had been giving her time and space. At least until last night. And yet, last night was the only time he'd seen any change in her demeanor.

"So, what do we have in the queue today?" Hiccup asked, forcing any thoughts of his crush out of his mind for the time being. It wouldn't do to let his mind wander while surrounded by molten metal and sharp weapons. He'd learned that the hard way earlier in his apprenticeship.

"We're not quite done with making nails," the blacksmith chirped, sounding almost giddy at the prospect. Hiccup couldn't fathom what anyone could possibly find so fascinating about making nails; it was tedious, repetitive, boring work. "Go ahead and grab some scrap metal while I get the forge heated."

Hiccup shrugged, shuffling dutifully over to the shelving unit in the corner that Gobber had indicated. With little preamble, he picked out a relatively shiny piece near eye-level that would be enough for more than a few handfuls of nails.

"Nope, try again," Gobber cut in before his apprentice had even turned around.

"What, why?" Hiccup asked, wheeling around to face his mentor, who was busy manning the billows.

"Take a good look at the piece in your hands," Gobber responded, waving his prosthetic in Hiccup's vague direction. "What's so special about it?"

"Er..." Hiccup began, peering down at the twisted hunk of metal. It was smooth and flat, if corkscrewed about its length. Clearly, it had begun its life as a blade of some sort. He told Gobber as much.

"Aye," Gobber agreed, gesturing for his apprentice to continue, "it's a sword. Which means _what_ about the metal's quality?"

"It's... high in carbon?" He replied hesitantly, unsure about where Gobber was going with this line of thinking.

"Exactly," the blacksmith responded with a grin, punctuated with a jab of his flesh and blood hand. "It's weapon-grade steel; something we have a limited supply of. And certainly not something we waste on nails. We still have scrap metal from the last five raids to get through before we start gettin' that desperate. So, try again!"

Hiccup sighed, conceding to Gobber's point before replacing the blade on the shelf. Returning with an armful of cracked and charred barrel hoops, the duo set to work in relative silence for the majority of their workload, exchanging words only when necessary for the job at hand.

As the last of the barrel ties was used up, Hiccup stepped away from their workstation, already anticipating Gobber's impending demand for more scrap metal. Wiping away the sweat on his brow with his sleeve, Hiccup approached the shelves once more, his other hand outstretched as he reached for a set of horribly disfigured metal buckets. Only to pause midway when something caught his eye.

There, a few shelves down from the buckets sat a hefty wad of steel, just as big as his entire torso, glinting in the light from the forge.

Extracting it from its position amongst the rest of the scrap proved difficult, owing to its sizable mass. Finally liberating it from the shelf, Hiccup yelped in shock as he nearly fell over backwards under its staggering weight.

"Hiccup!" Gobber snapped, leveling a glare at the boy as he struggled to drag the piece along the wooden floor. "What did I say about weapon-grade steel?"

Huffing and puffing the entire way across the forge, Hiccup wrapped his spindly arms around the metal slab and hauled it through the doorway to the back room he'd claimed as his own. Groaning at the immense effort required, he hauled the piece up and onto his personal workbench, worrying the entire time that his shoulders would simply pop right out of their sockets.

"Hiccup?" Gobber called out, limping through the open doorway, "what in Thor's name d'yeh think yer doin'?"

Running a hand over the cool surface of the metal, Hiccup felt out the once intricate ornamentation that had once adorned it, now partially melted from the intense heat of dragon fire.

"Hiccup!" Gobber shouted, swatting the young boy over the head.

Snapping out of his reverie, the boy whirled to face his mentor.

"Can I have this?" He asked pleadingly, still trailing his fingers over the metal.

"Jus' what do yeh need all this steel for?" Gobber frowned, stroking his whiskered chin in contemplation.

Hiccup shrugged, casting a glance at the metal. "It's for a personal project," he replied, turning back to the taller viking. "Please? It's important, I promise."

Gobber raised an eyebrow, silently urging the boy to say more. When he didn't, he let out a tired sigh.

"Aye," he finally agreed, kneading his forehead as he did so, "but it'll cost yeh, ya know? Yeh'll pay for it, jus' like anyone else in the village would."

"Is this enough?" Hiccup eagerly asked, extracting a handful of silver coins from his pocket.

Gobber shook his head. "Tha' won't even cover a tenth o' it," he replied honestly, barely casting a glance at the money.

"Oh," Hiccup responded, slumping dejectedly. "Can I take it out of my pay?"

One of the upsides of apprenticing under Gobber was that he was paid for his work. It wasn't much, but he didn't need much. As the chief's son, he was never left wanting for food or clothing. The only things he ever spent his coins on were materials for his inventions.

"If yeh really want," Gobber answered with a shrug. "That's a decent heap o' steel though. It'll be at least a year's worth of pay."

"I don't mind," Hiccup grinned, his mood rapidly brightening. "It's an important project."

"Aye, it'd have to be," Gobber stated dryly. "But yeh'll have ya work on it in yer free time. Right now, you've got nails to help me make. Hop to it!"

It was a long, tiring day for Hiccup. His regular duties were always exhausting, but the extra hours he put afterwards in for his personal project left him feeling dead on his feet.

Absentmindedly rubbing the charcoal smudged on his fingers, left there from the numerous sketches he'd made of the partially ruined designs on his newly acquired possession, he climbed the stairs to his and Astrid's shared loft. He was somewhat disappointed to find the girl absent. Though, it did allow him to change into his sleep clothes much quicker. Wasting no time at all, he flopped bonelessly onto his bed and fell into a deep slumber nearly as soon as his head hit his pillow, not even bothering to pull back his furs.

It was later when Hiccup found himself stirring awake. He wasn't certain how much later, but judging by the fact that the sun was fully below the horizon, it had to have been at least an hour.

Without having to roll over to look up, he could acutely hear the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. They were much too light to be his father's, which meant that Astrid had clearly returned. He listened as her feet gently padded across the room to her side.

The sound of a latch being flipped open was heard, followed by the rustling of clothing. A twin clunk, clunk, was heard, and Hiccup realized with a start what he was listening to.

Astrid had removed her shoulder pads. She was changing, directly behind him!

Hiccup screwed his eyes together as tightly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to be caught watching, even by accident. That would sure take a lot of explaining. If, of course, he was even given the chance to do so, before Astrid brutally murdered him on the spot.

A jolt of intense dread shot through him when the sound of Astrid's footsteps drew nearer. Had she discovered that he was awake? Was this it? Would she make his death quick and painless, or would she draw it out?

He could physically feel the gears in his head grind to a halt when her hand landed against his side. Only, instead of the excruciating pain he was expecting, the touch was warm and gentle. Slowly, He felt her crawl onto the bed behind him, and wrap her arms snugly around his middle.

The tingle of her steady breaths against the back of his neck was the last thing he registered before sleep once more claimed him.

-0-0-0-0-

The following week passed much in the same manner. He'd wake up in the morning, alone in an empty bed and empty house, before heading out to help Gobber in the forge. Thankfully, by Thor's Day, they'd moved on from crafting nails to repairing plows and fishing equipment. Not the most exciting work, but it inarguably beat nail-making.

In the evening, he'd labour over his secret project, and then at night, he'd come home and head to bed. Astrid would always return not long after, and lay down beside him, her limbs wrapping tightly around him, only for the cycle to repeat itself.

It was the following Tyr's Day night when, with a satisfied smile, Hiccup carefully wrapped his newly finished project in an old, worn wolf hide he'd found a the bottom of his clothes chest that morning. Judging by the small metal clasps fastened to two of its corners, it was likely meant to be worn as a cape. Perhaps as a part of a formal outfit he had worn once when he was younger and had forgotten about it.

Securely fastening a length of hemp rope around the bundle, he used it as a carrying strap as he staggered his way out of the darkened forge.

The trip home proved difficult. The rope made the bundle much easier to carry, but it was still insanely heavy. He had to stop and stretch out his tortured joints several times along the way. Between the frequent breaks and the awkward gate that the load forced his tired legs to adopt, the journey took Hiccup at least triple the usual amount of time to complete.

Thankfully, aside from Phlegma the Fierce, who merely gave him a curious squint as he trudged past her home, nobody accosted him along the way.

By the time he lugged the bundle through the front door of the chief's house, Hiccup felt about ready to collapse then and there on the wooden floor. Fortunately, there was only one more obstacle to overcome, one he was determined to conquer before the night was over. The stairs.

With an audible groan of effort, Hiccup hefted the package up to hold at waist height, before waddling forward, silently begging his frail body to not give out on him. Not yet, at least. By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Hiccup was adamant he'd torn a few ligaments in both his knees. Having reached his destination, he let out a tired _whoop_ before allowing himself to crumple onto his stomach, sighing in relief as the weight on his swollen soles was instantly alleviated.

"Hiccup?" Astrid's sleepy voice slurred.

Hiccup rolled quickly onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows to face her as she blearily sat up from her bed.

"Astrid," Hiccup balked. Her presence wasn't something he'd anticipated. "Er... sorry about making so much noise. I didn't think you'd be back so early."

"S'not early," she mumbled, stretching her arms up into the air, pushing her chest forwards in the process.

Hiccup fought down a blush and quickly averted his eyes.

"You're back late," she explained.

Spotting the blackened sky outside one of the nearby windows, Hiccup realized that, indeed, it was much later than he normally retired for the day. Silently, he cursed his own slight stature. Surely no one else on Berk would have struggled with the journey over nearly as much as he had.

"What's that?" Astrid asked thrusting her chin in the direction of the still wrapped bundle that lay discarded on the floor, pulling Hiccup from his self deprecation.

"Oh!" He gasped, leaping to his feet. "It's uh... well, it's a present."

The girl across from him blinked. "A present?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Hiccup shrugged, awkwardly waving a hand over the wrapped pelt. "For you. Specifically. If you want it, that is."

Tilting her head in curiosity, Astrid swung her feet to the floor and in one fluid movement, rose to a stand. Spanning the room in a few short strides, she knelt at the package. As she reached out to untie it, she cast an uncertain peek up at the chief's heir.

"If you don't like it, well..." he trailed off hesitantly, leaving the statement unfinished. He, quite frankly, had no clue what would happen if she didn't like it. Placing one hand on the back of his neck, he stiffly waved the other in an uneasy gesture.

Sucking in a breath as Astrid began to pull apart the knot in the rope, Hiccup winced in anticipation. A steady hand tossed aside the rope before reaching to pull back the first fold of the wrapping. Then the next. Bile filled his throat as polished steel, newly exposed to the dim moonlight was revealed.

A sharp gasp escaped Astrid's lips as she gawked at the finely crafted battle axe before her.

"This is..." Astrid murmured, her hands hovering over its metal surface, not daring to touch it, as if fearful it would break. There was an audible hitch in her throat as her digits ghosted over the intricately carved form of a deadly nadder at the centre of the axehead.

"Yeah," Hiccup replied, screwing his eyes shut, shying away from the hit he was certain was coming.

It never did. Only a warm embrace, one he'd grown intimately familiar with over the past week. Cracking his eyes slowly open, he was met with a familiar mop of pale hair occupying his entire field of vision.

"Thank you," Astrid whispered breathlessly into his ear.

Something wet pressed briefly against his lips, and with a start, Hiccup realized that she had _kissed_ him. Astrid Hofferson had kissed _him_. Hiccup Haddock.

A goofy grin molded it's way onto his face as the girl pulled gently away.

"A-any time," he stammered, feeling unnatural warmth bloom across his cheeks.

Faltering distractedly as Astrid bent over to pick up her present, Hiccup grabbed his sleep clothes before heading downstairs to change. When he returned, he was pleased to see Astrid holding the present tightly, carefully swinging it about with practiced ease.

He stopped to admire what he saw; a smile. A genuine, happy smile on Astrid's face. In that moment, Hiccup knew he'd never witnessed anything so beautiful.

Releasing a wistful sigh at the sight of his longtime crush reunited with a restored family heirloom, Hiccup cautiously navigated around the girl's impromptu training regimen. Successfully making it to his bed without disturbing her or getting accidentally hit, he began to turn down his covers in preparation for a well deserved sleep.

"Where do you think you're going?" Astrid's voice halted him in his tracks.

"Bed?" Hiccup answered, watching her curiously as she set the axe carefully, almost reverently, onto a pair of pegs against the wall.

A mischievous smirk flashed across her face as she turned to regard him. In that moment, Hiccup felt like a yak being sized up by a hungry dragon coiled to pounce. His throat went dry as he fruitlessly attempted to swallow his nerves.

"Come here," she instructed forcefully, taking firm hold of his hand and dragging him to her own bed.

Hiccup complied easily. It wasn't as if he had the ability to escape her grasp, and it wasn't as if he'd want to, even if he did. As she had every night, Astrid tightly wound her arms around him. Feeling the familiar warmth encircle him, Hiccup let out an involuntary contented sigh. The stress and the worries of the day fled him. For the first time since their shared sleeping arrangements began, his own arms reached around her and returned the gesture.

As he slipped into a restful sleep, Hiccup found himself eagerly looking forward to what tomorrow would bring.

-0-0-0-0-

 **So, I did some research when writing this fic on what people during the medieval ages would wear while sleeping. As it turns out, the answer is nothing. They tended to sleep butt naked, save for head coverings to supposedly prevent all of a person's heat from escaping through their scalp at night, as was the common belief back then.**

 **Furthermore, people would often share beds, especially in colder climates. So, were this fic more historically accurate, Hiccup and Astrid wouldn't have had separate beds, and also would have been sleeping together in the nude.**

 **I figured that was pushing things a little too far, considering they're 12 at the beginning of the story, and decided to make some alterations to their sleep habits in order to make things a little more… palatable... by our modern standards. It's not as if HTTYD is intended to be interpreted as historically accurate anyways; the presence of dragons, being the biggest giveaway on that front, among** _ **many**_ **.**

 **Besides, the notion of Astrid and Hiccup naked and sharing a bed at 12 isn't the most disconcerting part about historical sleeping arrangements in this context. Had period accuracy been my goal,** _ **Stoick**_ **would have been in the same bed with them, also naked. So there's an image. Have fun with it. No, please don't.**


	2. Just Talk

**AN:**

 **Wow. You guys absolutely rock! I was not expecting the kind of response that the first chapter received.**

 **On that note, I'd like to address a couple of the reviews from last chapter. That's normally not something I do in author's notes, and instead usually just PM the people directly if it's pressing enough. But, I figure these questions are somewhat important to everyone reading:**

 **This story has an M rating. I intend for there to be more adult… content brought up later on, in moderately explicit detail. That being said, right now, Hiccup and Astrid are 12. Nothing of the sort will happen between them until they are older.**

 **And also, I don't have a release schedule. I likely never will. As much as I'd like to guarantee regular postings, I simply can't. I'm in university, and school work will always take priority when I have it. Most of the time I spend writing this story is on the train to and from school, on my phone. Apologies on that front BTW, if ever there are any weird formatting issues. That'll likely be the reason.**

 **Not review related, but I saw Hidden World on the 22nd! I won't spoil anything here, but I will say that I thought it was really good. It was a bit tightly packed; it had enough content for a two hour movie, condensed into an hour and a half. That meant there was a lot of awesome stuff happening, but at the same time, some scenes weren't allowed to breathe the way they should have. Still really good, but the first movie remains my favourite of the series.**

 **And with that out of the way, let's hop to it!**

-0-0-0-0-

Chapter 2 - Just Talk

A yawn ripped through Hiccup, marking the end to his slumber. Smacking his lips together in an attempt to moisten his parched mouth, he languidly stretched his left hand up to wipe the thin trail of drool he could feel at the edge of his chin.

Or, he tried to, at least.

There was a warm weight pinning that entire arm to the bed. A weight that moved.

"Morning," a feminine voice murmured in his ear, and his eyes shot open.

Astrid was laying beside him, her face unnervingly close to his own. Hiccup felt frozen in place, as if the icy blue irises gazing into his own were made of actual ice, turning his entire being cold.

Even after a week, he was still hardly used to falling asleep beside her. _Waking_ up beside her was an entirely new experience, and he couldn't help but feel suddenly overwhelmed. What exactly was the protocol in such a situation? Did he ask her how she slept? Was that weird? Should he offer to make her breakfast? Discuss the weather? Debate the benefits of a coal burning furnace over a wood burning one?

That last one couldn't possibly be it. Could it? It was one of the first lectures Gobber had ever given him as his apprentice. But she wasn't Gobber.

Languidly, the blonde rose from the bed. Her hair, unrestrained by the braid she normally sported, flowed down her back like a golden waterfall. The orange hues of light streaming through a nearby window splashed against the back of her head, creating an angelic halo, and Hiccup felt his heart skip a beat. Or two. Possibly three.

 _Definitely_ not Gobber, he reaffirmed, suppressing the urge to reach up and touch those locks.

With practiced ease, Astrid practically leapt out of bed, and in one graceful movement, scooped her discarded armour up in one hand, and her axe in the other before hurrying down the stairs.

 _Well_ , Hiccup decided sardonically, _that_ saved him from having to figure out what to say.

Quickly coming to miss her body heat beside him as the chilly morning air crept its way under the now overturned furs, Hiccup rose to prepare for yet another day at the forge. Sluggish in his movements, as he was never much of a morning person, he shrugged off his sleepwear before pulling on his usual tunic and leggings. Deciding to throw on a fur-lined vest to help combat the cold, he let out another yawn. Blearily, he shuffled down the stairs, massaging his tired eyelids with the back of his sleeve.

Emerging below, he blinked in surprise at finding Astrid, now fully dressed, before him. She was perched on one of the great wooden chairs built to support the massive frame of Stoick the Vast that circled the fire pit at the centre of the room. Her hands, pulled behind her head, rapidly twirled her untied hair into her trademark braid.

Enraptured by the sight before him, he watched carefully, tracking her nimble fingers as they wove strand after strand. With a casual flick of her wrist, the end of the braid was doubled over, before a slim leather tie was threaded together, binding the braid in place.

With a satisfied smile, and a quick pat-down of her head ensuring everything was in place, Astrid turned to face him.

 _Is she waiting for something?_ Hiccup pondered to himself. _Maybe she's hungry. Ask if she wants breakfast._

"Are you breakfast?" He stammered out loud.

A beat passed, as he clued into what he'd said. A groan of dismay escaped him as he silently willed the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

 _It figures_ , he bitterly berated himself. He couldn't swing a hammer, he couldn't lift an axe… why did he _ever_ think he could speak to a pretty girl without messing _that_ up as well?

A loud snort rang out through the room, as Astrid began to laugh. Hiccup tilted his face downwards to the floor in an effort to hide it from view. He was used to laughter at his expense. This was hardly a new experience.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Astrid, her shoulders shaking from the fit of giggles that consumed her. Her eyelids clenched tight, crinkling at the corners as a mirthful smile played on her lips.

Huh. He was used to sneers. Come to think of it, her laughter held none of the cruel, taunting tone he was intimately familiar with. It was joyful, he realised with a jolt. She wasn't expressly laughing _at him_ , nor at his discomfort. Merely at the oddity of the sentence he'd uttered. That _was_ new.

A choking noise wrenched itself from her throat when she inhaled too sharply, gasping for breath between peels of laughter. Raucous coughs hacked their way through her, triggering even more boisterous laughter, this time at her own predicament.

Hiccup watched on, the shame receding from from his reddened cheeks as he watched the girl double over in sheer glee. It was quite the polar opposite from her behavior for the past month. Another peel of hearty guffaws ripped forth, sending a flush through Hiccup.

They were raw. They were unrestrained. They were unapologetic. They were intrinsically, quintessentially Astrid.

He decided very quickly that he'd like to hear more of those laughs.

Wiping a stray tear as she eventually calmed down, she flashed a wicked grin his direction. Hiccup felt his own lips pull back into an awkward and goofy, but equally genuine smile.

"Pretty sure I'm not," she quipped, tossing a playful glance at a drying rack laden with strips of jerked mutton hanging over the hearth, "Unless there's something you want to tell me about whatever that is."

"Sorry," he muttered bashfully, "do you want breakfast, is what I meant."

Astrid shrugged. "I don't normally eat breakfast," she replied simply.

"Really?" He questioned. He knew Astrid was almost always training. Surely skipping a meal was an ill-advised course of action for someone with such an active lifestyle.

She nodded. "I can't really cook, so..."

"No one ever taught you?" He prodded, kneeling to relight the fire that had died down overnight.

"My mom tried," Astrid admitted with a shrug. "It didn't go so well."

Hiccup mentally facepalmed. He hadn't meant to bring up the topic of her parents, and he really should have known better. Who _else_ would have taught her?

"My mom used to say that I could burn water," she continued, flashing her teeth. That took Hiccup by surprise. "You?"

Hiccup blinked, still grappling with the fact that the topic of her parents hadn't upset her. "Well, Gobber taught me," He explained hesitantly. "He said it would be 'a crime against viking-kind' to let my dad teach me how to cook, so..."

Astrid gave a snort in response. "So, are you any good?" she asked.

"Exceptionally mediocre," Hiccup replied, his mouth quirking into a smile. Gobber was quite fond of jokingly using the term to describe his metalworking. It seemed apt, somehow, using it now.

Then, acting on impulse, he puffed out his chest, much the same way he'd seen Snotlout do whenever he boasted.

Before he was able to fully feel embarrassed by his almost reflexive, off-the-cuff action, Astrid laughed, and Hiccup thrilled at the sound. He could feel his frazzled nerves slowly begin relax from the banter. It was easy, he realized, speaking with her like this.

For years, he'd been terrified of conversing with anyone his own age. He'd learned the hard way that trying to talk with Snotlout would result in being ignored, if he was lucky; in pain, if he wasn't. The twins were much the same, albeit less vindictive. And Fishlegs tended to murmur a nervous excuse before scampering off.

Before she'd moved in, Hiccup had only spoken to Astrid once in the past three years. In that attempt, he had managed to trip over his words so spectacularly, not even _he_ could decipher the mangled mass of syllables he'd spouted. He'd immediately fled and hid indoors for the next week, refusing to vacate his refuge, lest he accidentally cross paths with her.

Now, he was holding a proper conversation with her. He wasn't a stuttering mess. He wasn't being beaten into a pulp, and she didn't seem keen on leaving.

Was this what having a friend was like? Because he quite liked the feeling of it, and hoped it would continue.

A memory surfaced. He was five years old again, Astrid's hand clasped in his own as they toddled through town. The had been friends once. He'd really like to be her friend once more.

The kiss from last night fluttered to the forefront of his mind. _Or perhaps more_. Was it possible?

So, with gusto, he set forth to prepare their food.

Breakfast ended up being a simple affair; pottaged peas and pan-fried cod. Perhaps more of an evening meal than a breakfast, but Hiccup felt like making something more than just bread and cheese. Astrid didn't complain about the selection, so he was happy.

"Not bad," she commented, handing off her empty wooden plate as he cleaned up. "That was… thanks."

Hiccup cast a glance her way as he stowed the freshly wiped down dishes. She seemed nervous. Unsure of herself. For what reason, he wasn't certain.

He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, only to catch sight of the sun through the window, fully risen over the horizon. He cursed internally. He was expected at the forge already.

"I've got to go," He stated, cringing at the abruptness of his departure. "Gobber hates it when I'm late."

Hastily bolting to the door, he threw it open, tossing one more last-minute glance at the girl behind him. Only to start when he noticed her trailing in his wake. He shrugged internally, before simply continuing unimpeded.

She must be bound for the kill ring to practice with the painted targets and wooden dummies there, he assumed. That's where and how she had spent most of her days before she'd moved in. Plus, she had her newly restored axe proudly strapped to her back, undoubtedly eager to test it out. There was no reason she had to stick around in an empty house all day, he supposed.

As such, they'd be separating soon, seeing as how the arena and smithy were on opposite sides of Berk. An odd layout choice in hindsight, Hiccup realised, considering Gobber worked at both. Though, it was more likely that they'd both been built before the burly double-amputee had even been born. The village _was_ seven generations old, his father constantly and proudly repeated.

Still, it would make sense to have the two buildings close by. The arena was home to the town armoury, which required constant upkeep. Why not cut down on transport time? Not to mention the chain nets and iron bars used to keep the dragons contained; those needed frequent repair and replacement.

Perhaps he'd bring up the notion of relocating the smithy today at work?

A shout to his left caught his attention. Pulling himself out of his ponderings, he spun on the spot to see Ruffnut and Tuffnut wrestling on the ground a ways down a nearby side path. Snotlout and Fishlegs watched from nearby, the former appearing to goad the twins on, while the latter nervously chewed the ends of his fingers.

A scuffling of feet on gravel drew his attention to Astrid as she pulled up beside him. A disgusted sound escaped her as she peered in the direction he'd been looking. He quickly turned back to see that Snotlout had noticed them, and was sneering at them.

 _At him_ , he corrected himself. Snotlout was sneering at _him_.

Astrid let out an annoyed huff. Hiccup felt himself sag at the noise. Of course she was annoyed; no doubt because she'd been caught with _him_. She was probably embarrassed to have been seen spending time with the village screw-up.

Dejectly, he lurched forwards and continued to trudge towards his destination. Vaguely, he registered Astrid following him.

"Erm… Smithy's this way," he stated weakly, pointing at an upcoming fork in the path. "So… uh, yeah…"

"I know," Astrid replied, quirking a brow at him.

"Right," he nodded, feeling like a complete idiot. Of course she knew. She'd have to turn the other way at the same fork in order to reach the kill ring.

Astrid continued to stare at him, her expression told him plainly that she thought he was acting strangely.

"Good," Hiccup proclaimed stiffly, offering an uneasy smile. It was most definitely not good.

Gods! What should he say? Why was this so awkward? It had been so easy, figuring out what to say earlier! What changed?

"So, shall we?" Astrid suggested.

"Shall we what?" he asked.

"Go to the forge," she answered, rolling her eyes, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Oh," Hiccup balked. _Should it have been obvious? What happened to the kill ring?_ "You're going there too?"

"Of course," she replied simply, offering an easy smile. With a nudge, she gestured for him to keep moving.

"You uh... need something sharpened?" He asked, uncertain of her motives. She was following him. Why?

Astrid unslung the axe from her back and traced a finger along its edge. "Nope," she shrugged, twirling the axe, "looks like you already covered that."

Hiccup eyed the blade warily. "You need to talk to Gobber about something?"

"Not that I know of," she answered, tossing the axe into the air before deftly catching it.

"Grabbing equipment for the kill ring?" He continued nervously.

"The kill ring?" She questioned.

"You're heading there," Hiccup explained. "Right?"

"Wasn't planning on it," Astrid frowned, starting to sound annoyed. "Why? Do you not want me to come with you?"

"Come with me?" Hiccup balked. "What do you mean?"

Astrid halted in her tracks, unleashing a low huff.

Glancing around, Hiccup took note of their surroundings. To his surprise, they were in front of the forge already. In his distracted state, he hadn't realized they'd arrived at their destination. Gobber was there, peering curiously at the duo from the large window that occupied the front wall of the smithy.

"All the questions," Astrid snapped with an indignant huff, planting the butt of her axe on the ground so she could prop her weight on the weapon. "If you don't want to hang out, just say so."

"Hang out?" Hiccup stammered. Is that what she was wanting? Even after being spotted by the others? "I didn't... I don't..."

"Fine, Whatever." Astrid growled, hefting her axe to rest on her shoulder. "I'm going to train."

With that, she spun on her heels and marched off, leaving a baffled Hiccup behind.

She wanted to hang out? With him? Why? He was Hiccup!

Sure, he made her an axe, and he cooked her breakfast, but he hadn't done so with the expectation of getting anything back as a reward. Did she think otherwise? Or had she genuinely wanted to spend time with him?

Talking to her earlier had been enjoyable. For him. Of course it would be. He wasn't used to conversing with anyone, aside from maybe Gobber, as a peer. That's why it had been so pleasant to him. Right? It was a change of pace.

She was Astrid. She wasn't shunned by the rest of the village. She could speak with whoever she pleased. Talking to him shouldn't have been anything special for her, should it?

Not to mention the fact that he had feelings for her. That made time spent with her so enjoyable. But the feelings were unrequited. She had no such attachments.

Finding himself no closer to answering any of his questions, he let out a tired sigh, before ambling into the smithy, where his unreasonably spry mentor was awaiting him.

"So," Gobber began, playfully elbowing his young apprentice as he passed, "You and Astrid, eh?"

Hiccup scowled back at the burly Viking, electing to help light the forge instead of replying.

"Ah figured you'd be a wee bit happier on that front," Gobber prodded, not missing Hiccup's standoffish demeanour. "Seems she's taken notice of yeh. Guess yer little project worked. Don' think ah don' recognize tha' lump o' metal."

A smile worked its way through the younger viking's dower expression at the memory of Astrid practicing with her new axe the night before. Only for it to slip away when the walk to the smithy overtook it with relentless clarity.

"I'm... pretty sure I screwed it all up," he sighed sadly, turning to inspect the hot coals before him. He knew they were warm enough, but it gave him an excuse to avoid eye contact.

"Aye, sounds like something yeh'd do." Gobber stated with a shrug, extracting a mangled sword to work on.

Hiccup felt his shoulders droop. "Thank you, Gobber, for the vote of confidence," he mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Not a problem lad." The blacksmith replied chipperly, dipping the blade in the coals to heat.

Whistling merrily, the rotund man ambled to a nearby cabinet where he stored his assorted prosthetic attachments. Perusing the pieces the drawer had to offer for a moment, he seemed to hold a debate with himself over which attachment to select.

Humming, he finally plucked out his tong hand. "So," he said, twisting the tongs into place, "Yeh messed up, as yeh tend tah do."

"So we've established," Hiccup grumbled, doing his level best to intimidate the much larger man with a glare.

It didn't work.

"But yeh know what that means?" Gobber asked, briefly testing out the new attachment to make sure it was still in working condition.

"I'm still the village's laughingstock?" Hiccup snarked.

"No! Well, yeah, probably." Gobber replied with a shrug, gesturing for Hiccup to man the billows. "But yeh also have a chance tah learn from yer mistake. Y'er a bright lad. Shouldn' be too hard fer yah. Let's start with where you went wrong."

Hiccup huffed, partly in exasperation, partly from the exertion required to pump the handles of the smithy' massive billows. "Well, this morning," he began, pausing to suck in a breath, "we were -huff- talking, and -huff- everything was -huff- great. It was... easy."

"Aye?" Gobber asked, waving at the boy to let go.

"Yeah... it was," Hiccup affirmed, taking a step back. "And then when we were walking here it all fell apart. Snotlout saw us, and I didn't know what to say, and it was... uncomfortable, I guess."

"Y'er talkin jus' fine with me now, aren't yeh?" The blacksmith pointed out, peering at the blade to make sure it was heating evenly.

"Well you're not Astrid," Hiccup mumbled dejectedly.

Gobber let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Aye, well spotted," he chimed. "So, why is tha'?" He questioned, "Or better yet; how is tha'?"

Hiccup frowned. "How is what?" He asked, confused.

"How are yeh talkin' to me, right now?" Gobbler prodded jovially, extracting the blade from the flames, placing it on the nearby anvil.

Hiccup, ready with Gobber's hammer, dutifully handed it off the the man before offering a shrug. "I don't know. I'm just… just talking," he said simply.

"Exactly! Y'er jus' talkin'!" The blacksmith cheered, raising his hammer to strike.

"I don't… understand," the young boy sighed, shuffling the quenching basin into position nearby.

" _Jus' talk_ with Astrid," The rotund man declared, heaving his hammer down.

"Yeah, like it's that simple," Hiccup snided, turning the blade over so that Gobber could taper the other side.

Pausing to adjust his grip on his hammer, Gobber gave the boy a pointed look. "It _is_ tha' simple. Yer jus' gettin' thrown off because she's a pretty lass. Now, unless she speaks with her lady bits, tha' don' change the fact tha' she talks like everyone else."

The young apprentice flushed deeply at the mental image. "I think that-," he began, only to be cut off.

"Aye, and that's the problem, innit? Yer a thinker, Hiccup." Gobber stated, still skillfully pounding the blade into shape. "Tha' can be a good thing at times; helps yeh in the forge. I wouldn' let anyone who couldn' think into my workshop. They'd burn themselves alive before the day was done. No one wants tha'! It'd smell right terrible!"

"I can imagine." Hiccup deadpanned.

Gobber lifted the blade from the anvil to inspect it for any imperfections. Giving a nod of acceptance, he plunged it into the basin, stepping back as he did so to avoid the hissing droplets of water that were spat back.

"But sometimes, yeh overthink. If yeh wanna talk to the lass, then jus' talk. Don' trip yourself up with your own thoughts and insecurities." He explained, offering what he intended to be an encouraging smile. Though, between his rough visage and false stone tooth, it turned out to be less than effective. "I know you have more than enough of both to go around."

"Thank you… for the pep-talk." Hiccup sighed, albeit with less sarcasm than usual.

"Aye, no problem, lad!" Gobber said with a chuckle. "Now, take tha' sword to the grindstone and put a nice edge on it while I get started on the next one."

-0-0-0-0-

When he was finally dismissed from the forge later that day, he felt a sense of anxiety rising up within him, despite the fact that Gobber had promised him tomorrow off. He didn't want to have to face Astrid, but he knew he'd have to at some point. It wasn't as if he could avoid her for the rest of his life; they shared a _bedroom_ for Frigga's sake.

At least without her axe to work on, he was out earlier than normal. If she stuck to her usual routine, she wouldn't be back for another few hours. He'd have some reprieve, to plan out just what he'd say to her; how he'd beg for her forgiveness.

Loose stones crunched underfoot as he slowly meandered through Berk, vaguely heading in the direction of home. His chosen path wasn't the most efficient way of getting there; he'd made a few wrong turns by accident, not really paying attention to his surroundings. His mind was decidedly elsewhere.

It wasn't until he heard voices echoing from nearby that he realized just where he was. It seemed his feet had carried him over to the arena, far away from where he'd intended.

"Yeah, I mean I guess it's kinda weird," a familiar raspy voice rang out, causing Hiccup to instinctively duck behind a nearby stack of barrels. "I just don't get what the big deal is."

Braving a peak through a gap in his cover, Hiccup spied Snotlout and the twins exiting the kill ring, Snotlout with a scowl firmly affixed to his face.

"That's what I'm trying to say!" Snotlout snapped, absentmindedly kicking a discarded piece of wood. "It should be painfully obvious, but nobody seems to notice it!"

 _Painfully obvious?_ Notice what? Where was Astrid? Hiccup held his breath as the other teens came to a halt next to his hiding spot.

"What does that even mean?" Tuffnut questioned, twisting a finger idly into his ear.

"It means," Ruffnut scoffed, "That Snot-man's jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" Snotlout squawked indignantly, throwing his hands in the air, "I just don't get why people are still making a big fuss about her. She's friends with _Useless,_ for Tyr's sake."

Hiccup suppressed a sigh. So, they were talking about him. He was well aware of the other teens' nickname for him, it wasn't as if they ever censored themselves in his presence. But it never made hearing the name any easier.

"You saw what happened," Snotlout continued, entirely unaware of his cousin's presence nearby, "When that Zippleback showed up, she froze. She hasn't been to practice with us in months, and now she's spending time with that toothpick. I think it's clear what's going on!"

Hiccup frowned. So Astrid wasn't with them. And they were upset with her, apparently. Or, at least Snotlout was.

The twins glanced at each other, clearly confused.

"Clear to you maybe," Tuffnut muttered slowly, "I have no idea what you're saying."

"Thor, do I have to spell it out!?" Snotlout growled with a pointed huff. "He's rubbing off on her, but no-one else seems to see it. We're _vikings_ ; we aren't supposed to freeze up in battle!"

Hiccup scowled. Being the subject of his cousin's insults hurt, sure, but he was used to the treatment. Slights against himself, he could take. Snubbing Astrid? That was new. And surprisingly, harder to accept.

"It's always 'Astrid's so brave _this'_ , and 'Astrid's so strong _that'_! But she's not! When will people figure it out? She's practically Astrid the Useless at this point!"

Hiccup growled, finding himself rapidly infuriated at the epithet. Before he knew what he was doing, His legs had launched him into a standing position, exposing him to the other teens.

"Don't call her that!" He bitterly grit through clenching teeth.

The trio of teens blinked at the smaller boy's sudden appearance.

"When did he get here?" Ruffnut stage-whispered to her brother, who merely shrugged.

Hiccup blocked them out. He wasn't interested in them; his focus was exclusively on his cousin, who was jutting his square chin towards the auburn haired boy in defiance.

"I'll say whatever I want," Snotlout responded haughtily, leaning into Hiccup's face, "Especially if it needs to be said."

"Don't insult Astrid," Hiccup bit out; blind, dumb anger acting as a substitute for bravery as he glared right back.

"I'll stop whenever everyone else stops singing her praises she doesn't deserve," was Snotlout's barbed reply, "Your girlfriend's a loser."

Something in Hiccup snapped. Despite all the teasing he'd been subject to, all the sneers and jeers, all the punches and kicks, he'd never fought back. He knew he couldn't stand up to them. He knew he'd never be able to win in a fight. So he'd always resigned himself to simply accepting the abuse quietly.

But hearing his cousin insulting Astrid, he momentarily forgot about all of that. All he knew in that moment was anger. So he struck out with his fist, sending flying it into the broader viking's face.

Snotlout reeled back. More out of shock than pain; it wasn't as if Hiccup's punch carried much weight.

A second later, Hiccup found himself sprawling backwards, his vision blurring from the pain in his jaw. With a crash, he stumbled into the barrels that had been his refuge, knocking them over as he fell. A hiss escaped him as he felt his forehead bounce harshly off one's hard edge.

His head swam from the pain, and for a moment, the thought he might pass out. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Snotlout say something, followed by the twins' laughter. It sounded distant and muddied, drowned out by the intense throbbing in his skull.

He lay curled in on himself, clutching his head, willing away a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him. How long he stayed there, he wasn't sure. But by the time he shakily rose to his feet, he was alone.

 _Good_. He didn't particularly want them to be there. He was all kinds of upset. Upset at Snotlout for insulting Astrid, upset at Astrid for giving him mixed signals that morning, and most of all, upset at himself for pushing her away. Hearing snide remarks about how he couldn't take a little punch wasn't going to help things.

Wincing, he pressed a palm to the spot on his forehead that had made contact with the barrel. When he pulled it away, it was red and sticky. Blood.

Returning his hand to the wound, he staggered home, adamantly ducking into side alleys whenever someone else approached from the opposite direction. He really didn't want to have to explain how his injury had happened. All he wanted was to get to his house, wash up, and go to sleep, so he could forget the whole ordeal had ever happened. And as he pushed open the front door before stumbling in, that's exactly what he planned to do.

"What the Hel happened to you?"

Hiccup froze like a terrible terror in torchlight at the voice. Astrid, already changed into her sleep clothes for the night, sat rigidly in one of the chairs around the hearth, peering up at him over the crackling flames.

"Nothing," He muttered, making to climb the stairs.

In an instant, she was beside him, grabbing his arm and forcefully guiding him into a seat, "You're bleeding. Here, sit," she instructed, before shuffling towards the back of the house. "I'll clean you up."

"I told you, it's nothing," he mumbled meekly as she returned with arms laden with items; A bundle of cloth, thread, a metal hook, a jar of some sort, and an old wooden pail that sloshed with water as she set the items on the floor nearby. "I'm used to it."

Ignoring him, she poured half of the pail into a nearby metal pot, which she placed over the fire. Bringing what remained in the pail to his side, she extracted a clean, sopping rag from within and began to mop away the crimson liquid staining his face, dropping into the chair beside him to do so.

"You're lucky," She told him, pushing back his weak protests as he tried to pull away. "They may not have been able to teach me to cook, but my parents made certain I knew how to treat a wound."

That was the second time she'd mentioned her parents that day without showing any outwardly visible signs of bother. That was good, right?

"Ow," he gasped as she pressed the cloth to the gash above his left eye.

"Well, hold still then," she snapped back, placing her free hand firmly on his chest to keep him immobilized in the chair. "Seriously Hiccup, your lip's all split, and your forehead is going to need stitches."

"I was clumsy," he grunted with a shrug, hoping she would drop it. Hoping he wouldn't have to admit he got into a fight and lost. Hoping he wouldn't have to tell her why he had gotten into a fight in the first place.

She hummed, leveling a look he couldn't quite decipher at him. Slowly, she pulled away, dropping the now red rag back into its pail, before reaching out for the previously discarded jar. Popping the lid open to reveal some sort of slick yellow substance, she scooped some of its contents onto the ends of her fingers. As she began to gently massage the substance into his busted lip, a sweet scent hit his nose.

"It's honey," she explained, noticing his expression. "So it won't get infected."

Nodding, he relaxed, allowing her to work, seeing as there was no detering her. Gradually, he felt his eyes fluttering closed as her fingers traced upwards and began to work the wound above his brow.

"My mom used to tell me stories," She spoke softly, almost a whisper, though in the quiet of the empty house, it filled the room, "about the boy who lived next door when she was a girl. He'd always have bruises and cuts all over his body, and would tell people he got them because he was just clumsy."

The light pressure on his forehead subsided, and he pried his eyes open. Astrid sat before him, gazing down at her lap, where she twisted her fingers together.

"Everyone else accepted his explanation," she murmured, her eyebrows furrowing tightly. "Not my mom though. One day, she decided to sneak into his house and hide, so she could find out what really was going on, once and for all. You know what she saw?"

Hiccup shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going.

"It was the boy's dad," Astrid told him, tilting her head up, locking her eyes with his. Her scrutinizing gaze was so intense, it nearly hurt. "He was the one giving him all those bruises."

"My dad doesn't hit me," Hiccup grumbled, clamping his eyelids shut. He felt bare and vulnerable under her watch.

"No, he couldn't have," Astrid agreed. There was a scrape of wood against wood, announcing she'd stood from her seat. "Mulch said he was on the other side of the island all day. But _someone_ hit you."

Hiccup sighed, listening carefully as her soft footfalls padded over to the pot of now boiling water over the hearth. A quiet _ting_ of something metal dropping into the pot was heard, followed by the rustling of cloth.

Over all those sounds, however, all he could hear was Gobber's voice, urging him to _'just talk'_. She wanted answers. She'd proven already that her intents weren't malicious. She was helping to heal him that very moment. She cared. Right?

' _Don' trip yourself up with your own thoughts and insecurities'_

"Snotlout."

The name spilled from his lips, like some sort of spoiled drink.

"Snotlout did this?" Astrid gasped, moving back to his side. "Why?"

"He was…" Hiccup paused.

He didn't want to say it. Not to her. But as he opened his mouth to lie; to tell her he didn't know, the words caught in his throat.

' _just talk'_

"He was bad-mouthing you," he breathed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

He could hear her feet shuffle against the floorboards, his eyes still firmly clenched in fear. Fear that the words had hurt her; that he would see that hurt if he opened them.

A soft "oh," was her only response.

"Yeah," he murmured, unsure of what else to say.

More shuffling was heard, the soft scrape of something metal brushing against metal, and then:

"I need to stitch this up," Astrid said, placing a gentle hand beside his wound. Her voice was coming from just above him. He could feel her standing close. "This is probably gonna hurt."

He nodded, acknowledging that he understood, before bracing himself. In that moment, with her body heat radiating through the air between him, tickling his bare face and arms, he didn't trust his voice.

A sudden spike of pain overpowered his senses, and he fought to reign in the trembles that shook him. There was a sharp tug on his skin, and he let out a gasp. It was too much; too much pain. His fists gripped the wood of the chair's arms so tightly, he feared his tendons might pop. With a gasp, he felt himself lift from the seat.

"No, don't move," Astrid tenderly crooned, nudging him back down. A weight settled into his lap, one he was familiar with. Her. She was sitting atop him. "It's okay. It's almost done, I promise."

The pain didn't subside any, but her presence helped to draw his focus away from it. The whispered words of encouragement in his ear made it all the more torturous, yet at the same time, so much more bearable.

"There. All cleaned up," she cooed, slipping off of his lap. He sighed in relief. Or was it disappointment? "The cut's still there, but it's not getting infected any time soon."

"Thanks," he mumbled, allowing himself to peek up at her as she carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "And... sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she questioned, as she began to collect the scattered materials the'd pulled out to dress the wound.

"For this morning," he pressed on. It was difficult forming the words, but he knew they needed to be said. "I didn't think you'd actually want to spend time with me."

"Why would you think that?" she asked, offering him an incredulous look.

A hand absentmindedly traced the cut on his lip. "Like I said. I'm used to it."

Her back stiffened at his admission.

"Hiccup…" she sighed sadly, setting the gathered materials aside on a nearby table. Then, with a determined expression, she marched towards him, firmly planting her fists on her hips as she came to a stop in front of him. "That does it. I'm not leaving your side again. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I do" he responded with a smile, immensely glad Gobber had given him the day off. Glad that he had her in his life.

"Good," she cheered, grabbing his arms and pulling him into a stand, "Ever been to the beach?"

"Er…" he floundered as she began to drag him upstairs. "Not since my dad tried to teach me how to fish a few years ago."

"It's settled then," she declared, tossing a grin over her shoulder as they cleared the top step. Hiccup couldn't help but find it infectious. "We're going there tomorrow."

"I'd like that," he smiled back.

"Good. Because you don't have a choice," she told him with mock seriousness, before flipping back the furs on her bed.

"Whoa, hang on," he stammered as she began to lie down, pulling him with her. "I still need to change!"

"Oh," she recoiled in surprise, eying the soot and dried blood on his tunic. She seemed to deflate for a moment, before, "Right, well, hurry up," she commanded, her previously giddy mood making a swift comeback.

Hastily following her urgings, he grabbed his sleepwear and sprinted down the stairs, taking two at a time. For the first time that day since their ill-fated walk that morning, his heart felt alight with joy.

When he returned, he quickly settled into the mattress beside her, their arms seeking each other instantly.

"Hey, Astrid?" he whispered, as she snuggled closer.

"Yeah?" she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic.

"What ever happened to that boy?" he asked, a sudden bout of curiosity burning within him. Perhaps he needed reassurance that the boy was okay. That one day, he'd be okay as well. "The one with the bruises?"

"My mom ran and told the chief, your grandfather at the time," she hummed, taking hold of one of his hands under the blankets. "The boy had an older brother he moved in with, and his father was exiled. Apparently the chief didn't take kindly to that sort of thing."

"And what ended up becoming of the boy?" he urged, gripping her hand tightly back.

He felt her thumb trace soothingly over his knuckles, drawing tender circled as it went.

"He married my mother a few years later," she whispered sleepily, a warm smile fixed in place. "That boy was my dad."

-0-0-0-0-

 **AN:**

 **So, this chapter went through a couple of rewrites, which is why it took as long as it did. Sorry about that.**

 **The first draft of this chapter had Hiccup just being super charismatic and able to banter with Astrid right off the bat. Then the conversation on the way to the forge turned awkward out of nowhere. Both of those things were just bad. It was clunky, and it happened for no reason. So the revision ended up toning down the banter, having a stage where Hiccup had to relax first, and then giving Hiccup a motivation to become self-conscious.**

 **The fight with Snotlout was initially just him being jealous that Hiccup was spending time with Astrid. That had to change. Not only has that been done to death already, but it doesn't let us explore Snotlout's character the way the new motivation for the fight does. Snotlout's one of the most interesting characters in the franchise, IMO, and I didn't want to make him just a one-dimensional bully. A bully, sure, but there's more to him than just that.**

 **So, long story short; the moral of the story is that revisions can be a good thing, kids. Also, when you write a story, everything that happens in it, should happen for a reason; it should either progress the story, or it should reveal something about one or more of the characters.**

 **As always, let me know how you think I did. Reviews are welcome. If you hated this chapter, let me know. More importantly, let me know why. If you loved it; same thing. (The why is the most important part of criticism, IMO).**

 **Side note, I've started writing a couple of one-shots in between writing this fic. Which, admittedly, is another reason this chapter took longer than expected. I've already got an M-rated Hiccstrid one-shot anthology posted, which has one story posted so far in it. Go check that out, if raunchier stuff is your thing. I also have a few more PG one-shots on the go that I'll either post individually, or I might post together in another anthology. Dunno yet. But keep your eyes peeled for that.**

 **As always, thanks for reading and...**

 **Peace!**

 **Oh, PS:**

 **I gave some historical info in the last chapter's ending AN, so might as well keep that trend going. I did in fact research a few things on medieval lifestyle before writing this chapter afterall.**

 **First; people did wash their dishes back then. Peasants would either lick or wipe their plates clean, while nobles would generally have servants wash the dishes in a river. They may not have known what germs were, but they knew leaving bits of rotting food around was a generally bad thing.**

 **Pottage was a fairly typical dish, made of either grains or vegetables, as was fish and pork. If you want to know more on medieval cuisine, the YouTube channel Modern History TV has some good info on that, as well as on feudal warfare.**

 **Honey was used as a disinfectant for wounds as early as ancient Sumeria, and medical stitches have been discovered dating back to 1100BC in ancient Egypt.**

 **Nothing weird about a naked Stoick turned up in my research, unfortunately. I'll try harder for the next one.**


	3. Hiccup Becomes A Man

Chapter 3 - Hiccup Becomes A Man

When Hiccup awoke in the morning, his head was filled with a dense fog. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, he glanced around his surroundings, only to start when coming face-to-face with a pair of sky blue eyes.

"Hey Hiccup," Astrid chirped, tossing a wry grin in his direction.

"H-hi," he replied, still taken off-guard by her close proximity.

"It's cold," the blonde murmured, snuggling closer under the cover of the furs.

"It's Berk," Hiccup replied with a shrug,"It's always cold."

Yet despite his comment, he openly welcomed the warmth of her body pressed against his, warding of the biting morning air. His hand trailed up her back, caressing the smooth skin under his fingertips.

Wait. That wasn't right.

Hiccup instantaneously froze.

"Er… Astrid," he stammered.

"Hmm?" she murmured.

With an awkward cough, he pressed on with his query. "Are… are you wearing clothes?"

"Nope," Astrid stated simply, tilting her head up to peer up at him.

Reeling back in shock, Hiccup thrashed backwards violently as if he'd been burned. At least, that's what he attempted to do. Astrid's iron grip held him firmly in place.

"Astrid!" Hiccup all but squeaked, "Why aren't you wearing clothes?"

"Same reason you aren't," Astrid hummed, seemingly entirely unconcerned with her state of undress.

Hiccup instantly stilled at that remark. Hesitantly he snaked a hand down his own body to find that, indeed, he was entirely nude under the furs.

"Why am I not wearing clothes!?" He yelped, feeling himself beginning to hyperventilate.

"What's so weird about not wearing clothes?" Astrid questioned, loosening her grip around the skinny boy. "Nobody wears clothes in bed, Hiccup."

Capitalizing on his newfound freedom, Hiccup scuttled away from the girl as quickly as his body could carry him. Unfortunately, his journey was cut short. Extremely short. He only managed a foot of distance from his longtime crush before he collided back-first into a large, fleshy form.

"She's right son," A deep, booming voice grunted from somewhere behind him. "It's the viking way, after all!"

Feeling a sense of dread flood his veins, Hiccup slowly rolled around to find himself confronted with what at first glance appeared to be a thick, red bear-skin rug. When the 'rug' shifted, Hiccup clued into the inescapable reality that his face was now pressed into the overwhelmingly hairy chest of Stoick the Vast.

It was at that moment that Hiccup became a man.

0-0-0-0-0

 **So, yeah. This is obviously an April Fools joke. I spent all of 20 minutes typing it up. If you were excited for an actual chapter 3 and found yourself supremely disappointed with what you received instead, I apologize. Chapter 3 is slow-coming. I'm in university, and the course I'm in doesn't really have final tests. Instead, we have final projects that are coming due this month. Unfortunately, school takes priority. Once April's over, I'll have 4 months off for summer break. I'll be working during then, but even still, my schedule should free up significantly. So look forward to that.**

 **(Oh! One of the projects I'm working on is for post-production sound. We take any scene from a movie, and replace all the audio, including dialogue. We're allowed to do bad lip reading, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. I already have a script halfway written for a scene from HTTYD: The Hidden World. I'll post it on my YouTube when it's done, which is linked here on my profile)**

 **Until then, like my grandma always says;**

 **Stay lit, fam.**


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